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Too Big To Fail

Before you throw this letter into the proverbial round file, let’s be clear: this is the first time I have ever asked for a bailout from the Federal Reserve. I know what you’re thinking. Why do I deserve your largesse, and I do mean largesse, since I’m asking for five million big ones? The answer is simple. Like many of our nation’s financial institutions, I am simply too big to fail. If investors were allowed to witness the collapse of Freddie, Fannie, and then Andy, I can’t begin to describe what havoc it would wreak on their already frayed nerves. Actually, I can describe it: global financial calamity. I think we can both agree that, to dodge this bullet, ten million dollars is a small price to pay. (I know that I originally asked for five, but since I started writing this letter my financial situation has deteriorated in grave and unexpected ways.)

Why am I too big to fail? It’s important to grasp the critical role that I play in a wide-ranging but fragile web of economic relationships. If I go belly-up, I will no longer be able to tip my doorman when he gets me a taxi. This is not a hypothetical situation. I have studiously avoided tipping him for a solid month now. Consequently, he no longer has cash to spend at the liquor store after work, and the liquor-store owner no longer has money to spend on Internet porn. Given that Internet porn is the only fundamentally sound engine of the American economy, we’re playing with fire here. If that stalwart industry is allowed to fail, Asian porn companies will rush to fill the void, offering porn that is both cheaper to produce and way hotter than ours. What will it take to keep this from happening? There are no guarantees, but sending me a check for twenty million dollars would buy us all valuable time.

How did I find myself in this hole? Like most financial crises, mine had its origins on a slippery slope. First of all, I made the mistake of logging on to iTunes when I was high and downloading every Electric Light Orchestra song ever recorded. Second, I created my own e-commerce site, the ill-fated DressYourBadger.com. I mistakenly believed that a Web site for people who kept badgers as pets and wanted cute outfits to dress them up in would work as a subscription-based service, especially if I charged subscribers a thousand dollars a month. When there were no takers, I switched to an all-advertising model, not realizing that I was plunging headlong into the jaws of an epically weak advertising market, particularly for products relating to pet badgers.

I have never borrowed money from anyone before, and, if you don’t believe me, ask any of my friends. Only don’t ask Bo. You should not ask Bo for two reasons. First, Bo is under the impression that I did borrow money from him, when all I actually did was let him pay for a pitcher of Stella when it was my turn to pay, and then ran out of the bar before he figured it out. The other reason you should not ask Bo is that Bo is a ginormous dick. In fact, if Bo writes to you looking for a bailout, i.e., he wants to be made whole for that pitcher of Stella, please feed his letter to the nearest high-speed shredder. I promise you, no investor on the planet will give a rat’s ass if Bo goes under.

By now, I’m fairly confident you’ve already decided to give me that bailout, but, just in case you haven’t, here’s one more good reason: there’s a better than fifty-fifty chance that at some point in the next ten years I’ll be elected Vice-President of the United States. I wouldn’t have guessed that a few months ago, but apparently now they’re letting anybody run. How is this significant for you? In addition to presiding over the Senate and attending state funerals, one of the Vice-President’s duties (as I see it) is to badmouth the Chairman of the Federal Reserve to the President. This is a situation that could get, shall we say, rather awkward for you. But why even contemplate such a scenario when it could all be avoided by sending me a check? It’ll be the best billion dollars you ever spent. ♦

Andy Borowitz is a New York Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes the Borowitz Report for newyorker.com.